Who is E.B. White? Perhaps this is a silly question—he is an essayist, after all, and essayists generally write about themselves, even if their stories aren't exactly true. To the essayist, truth can be found in the story, rather than the reality. As one of the original writers for The New Yorker, Mr. White wrote about everything from his dachshund Fred to World War. He invites us into his life for a week in several of his works, and he offers little witticism about daily life. White pays a lot of attention to details. His language is simple and colloquial. By all appearances, he is the most transparent of all the essayists. His style is at once self-mocking and ironic, but where exactly the irony is coming from is hard to tell. When is he being serious, and when is he simply being humorous? It is difficult to know what points he wants to be taken seriously. He is a man with something to say, versus a man who loses himself in self-reflection—his humor helps with this. As Chris Klaus points out, in the Chronicle of Higher Education, “to determine the authenticity of an essayist's voice, one would have to know as much about that essayist's inner life, public behavior, and personal experience as the essayist herself.” Angell acknowledges that “there is more of Andy White left out of his writings than was ever put in.” But, perhaps the reason essayists write the way they do is to discover their "self." White is not necessarily looking to establish a "self," rather, he is searching for a way to make his "self" authentic. His humor is exemplified in his use of personification. War colors many of his pieces. Finally, movement is inherent in White's work, both in a stylistic sense and in the motifs of his essays.